


A Chance For Change

by RuvikKin



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fix it AU, Gen, Mentions of Death, No Tuberculosis allowed in my aus, Past Character Death, Time Travel, Two Dutch for the price of one, kind of in a way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuvikKin/pseuds/RuvikKin
Summary: The closer he got the more Dutch realized he was hearing voices, loud ones like the camp used to make. Dutch stepped closer and he could barely make out through the treeline the old gang, the camp together- everyone younger. His eyes scanned across and he saw everyone together. Tilly, Pearson, Susan, Charles, Mary-Beth, Strauss. His shoulders sunk, his eyes widened when he saw himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I always wanted an AU where Dutch was the one who fixed it. Seeing all the Arthur fics are fun and all, but I got the idea for a change thanks to an RDR2 discord server. More to come!

Dutch thought that falling off a cliff would go so fast, but everything seemed to go in slow motion. He had a moment to think, one last time about his life- he figured thats what it meant when people said your life flashes before your eyes before you die. He thought about just moments earlier when he told John ‘You can’t erase the past’, and wondered, how he’d be if he could.

Just for a second Dutch could have sworn he saw the blinding flash of light above him, like staring straight into lightning, and saw just barely- the outline of an animal coming straight towards him.

He closed his eyes, and let his body hit the rocks.

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Dutch’s eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, breathing heavily and clutching his chest. He was alive? He looked at his hands, seeing the dirt and soot on them from earlier and wondered briefly if he was still old in hell. Dutch stood up on wobbly legs, taking in a deep breath of air before looking around to the area around him. It was recognizable, he remembered this place- not too far from Horseshoe Overlook down in the forest. Deciding to walk to the old camp grounds, carefully with wobbly legs he began to move. He wanted so badly to see his old gang members, see the camp, even if everyone was old and grey as he was, thats all he wanted. Wanted to make amends, apologize to Hosea, to Arthur and Javier, to Suan and Lenny, all of them.

The closer he got the more Dutch realized he was hearing voices, loud ones like the camp used to make. Dutch stepped closer and he could barely make out through the treeline the old gang, the camp together- everyone younger. His eyes scanned across and he saw everyone together. Tilly, Pearson, Susan, Charles, Mary-Beth, Strauss. His shoulders sunk, his eyes widened when he saw himself. A much younger version of himself, but still himself. The leader of the Van Der Linde gang, young and proud and full of ideas.

His heart sank, his throat tightened.

“Hey!” Dutch jumped as he heard Bill right behind him, heard the telltale sound of a gun clicking and he knew the gun was aimed at him. “You there, who the hell are you and what do you think you’re doing here?” Dutch put his hands up, took in a deep breath and slowly turned around to face Bill. Bill’s expression was hardened, but Dutch could see the flicker on his face as he didn’t know what was happening.

“Hello Bill.” Dutch finally spoke past the lump in his throat and that was when Bill’s eyes widened. “I… Its nice seeing you again.”

“Dutch? No.” Bill grimaced and stepped closer to him. “What the hell you think you’re pulling here?” Dutch saw Bills arm swing up and felt the blunt end of a gun hit him across the head. He stumbled, held his head and groaned in pain while Bill grabbed onto one of his arms and began dragging him into the camp. “DUTCH!” Bill was obviously calling out to the younger version of himself.

He was dragged into the camp, felt all the eyes on him even as he tried to stare at the ground and hide his face from the onlookers. The younger Dutch met Bill in the middle, and Dutch was shoved onto the ground and he heard Bills gun clicking again as he aimed it. “Bill who the hell is this?”

“You tell me Dutch! You got a brother none of us knew about?”

“A brother?” His younger counterpart stepped forward, and Dutch looked up to meet his own eyes. He could hear the gasps from the camp members. “Bill what is this all about?”

“He was creeping around in the woods staring at us. What should I do with him Dutch?” Young Dutch was shocked, and Dutch could easily tell they both recognized one another as the same person. So similar, yet Dutch felt the years on his shoulders and the pain he carried made it clear they were very different. He cleared his throat, deciding to speak.

“You know, usually I would have an explanation for this.” His voice cracked, but that got his counterparts attention. There was no mistaking the tone and the rasp that Dutch carried for years. “But I have to say quite honestly, I don’t know anymore than you do.” He looked around the camp and saw the members all still staring at them- which didn’t surprise him at all considering the circumstances.

“Tie him up on the tree.” The younger one stated and motioned over to a tree on the outskirts of camp, one not too far from where Kieran was still tied up. It clicked to Dutch where he was at, and didn’t fight when Bill forced him onto his feet and shoved him forwards. Dutch let himself be walked to the tree and didn’t try to move quickly or get away. Bill led him to a tree and his younger self followed, grabbing rope so they could tie his hands behind his back in the same manor Dutch remembered tying Kieran too all those years ago.

Dutch stared at his younger self, watched the way the man furrowed his brows and scanned over himself. Dutch fidget his arms, tugging the rope to see just how tight it was before he tried speaking again. “Are Hosea and Arthur out? Hunting trip? Make sure when he gets back you ask Hosea how big the bear was.” His younger selves eyes twitched and he pulled a bandana from his pocket, using it to gag Dutch. Dutch rolled his eyes and leaned back on the tree, realizing he wouldn’t get anywhere with them at the moment- he remembered how stubborn he used to be with things and it frustrated him.

He watched the two who tied him up walk away back into the camp, the younger version of himself telling everyone something to get them to disperse. Dutch didn’t miss the way a few eyes lingered on him before the camp continued to bustle around.

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Dutch wanted to kick himself for being so cruel in the past, not that he was any better now, but he never thought that he’d end up tied to a tree and feeling like he would die of thirst. It only made his heart pang for Kieran, the poor boy had been tied up longer than he had and his legs were wobbly already- Dutch blamed that on age. It had truly only been a day, the sun had set and then risen again, and he’d easily been able to get sleep- thinking it all a bad dream only to wake up with the gag in his mouth and the memories all came back. It was odd he thought, how hard he tried to think if this was something that happened- but he didn’t remember and it was driving him nuts. He did note a few things here and there. John was still bedridden, he heard Abigail shout at him earlier, and Sean was still missing. Considering he hadn’t seen Sean anywhere and Karen wasn’t wearing his jacket around the camp yet, he figured the boy was still in the hands of the police. Dutch had plenty of time to think, and he spent most of the morning with his eyes closed and his head tipped back against the tree while he tried to think of a way to talk to his younger self and get away from the tree.

He remembered very clearly falling to his own death, and telling John you couldn’t change the past. Dutch wondered if this was his chance to change things, and change the way the future could be for the members of camp.

It wasn’t until almost noon, the hot sun beating down on him, when he heard very clearly the sounds of two horses riding back into camp. His eyes snapped open and he looked up to see Arthur and Hosea returning from their hunting trip, the two bright eyed and grinning. Dutch let his gaze linger on Arthur, how healthy and strong he still was, and how he still carried himself with pride, fully content. Then there was Hosea, still aching from the cold weather but he was alive, and he was smiling. Dutch wanted to call out to them, grinding his teeth on the gag he tried his best to make a loud noise- a shout from behind the bandana that he tried to make sound like their names.

It worked.

Arthur and Hosea’s heads both turned to him, and Dutch felt relief at seeing they could hear and see him as well. His younger self made a quick way over to Hosea and Arthur, muttering to them so Dutch couldn’t hear them easily. After a moment, the three of them made their way to Dutch, Arthur was the one to reach out and untie the bandana which allowed Dutch to open and close his sore jaw. Dutch looked at Arthur and felt a lump in his throat, he remembered so clearly watching Arthur die and doing nothing to help him- remembered leaving him to die multiple times over. He refused to have that happen again.

“Dutch what the hell is going on here?” Hosea asked, looking up and down the older Dutch before he turned to the younger one. “He can’t really be you can he?”

“Well I don’t know Hosea. To be honest I wanted to wait for you to come back. We’ve dealt with a lot of stuff, but I think this is… Over our heads.” The younger Dutch rubbed his temples, closing his eyes like it was too weird to look at himself in the future.

“Well, lets start with this then. Are you Dutch Van Der Linde?” Dutch nodded quickly, keeping his eyes on Hosea. “Then, what the hell happened to you?”

“Thats a long story Hosea.” Hosea raised his eyebrow, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket. “I can’t talk about it, I don’t even know how I got here. It was… It was 1911 the last I remember, it’s been a long time. But I can tell you this much- all of you- you need to get Sean, who is still alive by the way. Poor Mac isn’t, and theres nothing you can do about that, but get Sean and go west. As soon as you can get out of here-” The younger Dutch grimaced and put the gag back on Dutch, making Dutch sigh in frustration.

“Sean is alive?” Dutch nodded. “Dutch, we have to go get him.” Arthur turned to his younger self. “Moving west too was the plan wasn’t it? If hes really you from twelve years from now then maybe we should listen to him.”

“This doesn’t seem insane to you Arthur?” Young Dutch motioned towards his older self. “You think this is me, from the future honestly. How did he get here then?” Young Dutch pulled the bandana from Dutch’s mouth again. “How did you get here? What happened to me?”

“I can’t say for sure, I don’t know. I was…” Dutch tumbled the words in his brain for a second- he didn’t want to tell his past self that he was dying, that’d seem too much. “I was falling off a mountain. When I hit the ground I woke up not too far from here, I started walking over here and thought I had dreamed the whole thing, looked up and saw the gang...”

Young Dutch motioned to his older self to shut up, and turned towards Hosea and Arthur. “Lets do this, if Sean is alive, truly, we’ll listen to… Him and get this all sorted out. Where is Sean located?” Dutch closed his eyes, trying to remember all those years ago what Trelawny had told him.

“Being held by bounty hunters… Near Blackwater. Trelawny has all the answers, he’s here if you head into town he’ll be around, looking for you. Never made it to New York.” Young Dutch sighed and shook his head.

“If thats it then, we should head out and try to figure everything out. What else do we need to know about all this?”

“Take Charles and Javier with you- two strong fellows. When I can, I’d like to talk to some people here. There are some… Things I need to settle.” Young Dutch nodded and moved to put the bandana back in his mouth, but paused, instead just tossing it onto the ground.

“Come on then Arthur, grab Javier and Charles and lets go see what we can find out. Hosea, can you keep an eye on him?” Hosea nodded, Arthur and Young Dutch walked off- shouting after Javier and Charles to follow them out of camp. Dutch sighed, looking up to Hosea and feeling his chest clench.

“Hosea I-” Dutch stopped, he wanted to apologize but wasn’t sure what for. “How was the hunting trip? Biggest bear you ever saw, right?” Hosea nodded, a smile forming on the edge of his lips. “How much did it weigh you said? A th-”  
“A thousand pounds. Oh my god Dutch.” Hosea took his hat off, running his fingers through his hair. “You’ve gotten old.”

“Haven’t we all? Now I know how you feel old man. I’m just glad we’re out of the mountains. I remember you complaining all that time about your joints, and now here I am… Complaining about my own. What a fool I am…” Dutch closed his eyes again. “If you don’t mind, Hosea, can you get me some water? And some for Kieran over there. He’s more than deserving ...”

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Dutch had remembered correctly about Trelawny, he knew immediately once his younger self returned from going into town without anyone else returning with him. Young Dutch walked over to the tree, cutting the rope that tied back Dutch’s hands. He was- roughly- led back into his old tent, with Hosea being called over and the folds of the tent being pulled back for privacy. Dutch took a moment to look in the tent, he remembered everything in there and let out a sigh at the memories.

“We found Trelawny, just outside of Valentine like he said. They all went out to go find Sean.” Dutch didn’t miss the way his younger self placed his hand over his gun holster. He ignored it though and instead looked carefully over some of the items in the tent, things he hadn’t seen in years suddenly in front of him.

“Well what do you want to do about this Dutch? We don't know why he's here." Hosea watched Dutch carefully, taking in the way the older man moved compared to his younger self.

"I have a feeling-" Dutch spoke up as he gently ran his fingers across an old book of his that he remembered so well. "I'm here to fix things. I've either gone to hell or I'm here to fix myself." Dutch set the book down, turning to his young counterpart and stepping towards him- he was hoping he’d be a bit more intimidating than he thought he looked what with being shorter due to age and not having on taller boots. “If it is the second one, then you and I have a lot to discuss.”

“I suppose we do. For now lets…” His young self let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “We’ll explain to everyone that you’re staying here, it’s too dangerous for you to be out of camp and you’ll stay here unless I say otherwise. Hosea go with him around camp, find an extra bedroll. He can sleep out by the tree he was tied to.” Dutch raised his brow, it was almost laughable how his younger self didn’t trust him, then again he figured he now a days wouldn’t have trusted his own self regardless.

Hosea did as the younger one said, taking Dutch out of the tent to go find an extra bedroll- pulling one off the wagon that Hosea mentioned had belonged to Mac, they both looked sullen for a moment before heading over by the trees. Dutch was hoping he would be able to say anything to Hosea, he was finding it hard to even look at the man in the eyes. All Dutch could see when he looked at Hosea was the man bleeding out in front of the Saint Denis bank, and it made his chest feel a thousand pounds heavier. He refused to let that happen again. Not to Hosea, not to Sean, or Lenny or Kieran.

Dutch tried to shake the feeling away, laying the bedroll down on the ground and patting it gently, huffing when he stretched his back out- he was old and it was showing in his movements. No longer the young man so full of hope and loyalty, but now just a sad man driven by anger and fear.

“Well now, I will say this has been quite a day hasn’t it.” Dutch stared down at the bedroll, he was used to sleeping on them alone now a days, a tent was almost a luxury for him.

“Are we going to make it out of this?” Hosea spoke up, turning to Dutch. “Truly, what happens after this? You going to get your head on straight?” Dutch closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before sighing and shaking his head. “How bad does it get?”

“Look at me Hosea. I’m older now, standing here, than you are.” He turned to Hosea, then looked past him and motioned towards the camp. “Most of the people here I led to their deaths or they left me- left the gang. I can’t let that happen again, no if I have to see or hear of any of the people here dying again I don’t think I could handle it. Not all over again.” Dutch clenched his fist, looking over to Hosea. “I’m going to knock some sense into myself, or I’m going to try. I can promise you this much Hosea, from an old man who’s seen far too much death for any persons lifetime, that I will do whatever I feel is right for the gang.” Hosea’s expression fell, looking concerned at Dutch’s words.

“I’m still not sure how to feel about all of this, but if you’re really here fixing everything by some higher power- well then I’ll trust you. I always trusted you Dutch.”

“I know you did Hosea. I know.”

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As Dutch remembered, Javier rode into camp with Sean on the back of his horse- he could hear them a mile away with the way Sean’s mouth was running. As soon as he was back though Dutch stepped back, he let his younger self greet Sean into camp and welcomed him home. It was heartwarming, enough to make him smile for what felt like the first time in years.

Once the welcoming had calmed down- just a tad- Dutch joined his younger self over by Sean. The boy’s face was full of confusion, seeing the two and Dutch just held up his hands slightly, shaking his head. “We’ll explain after a nice welcoming home party for you Sean. For now, drink, be happy.” Sean didn’t question it beyond that, deciding to take to grabbing a drink as Dutch suggested. Arthur rolled into camp not too much longer after, though the sun was setting again, and the party was now in full swing.

Dutch took to sitting out by his bedroll, looking over one of his old books he snagged up from his tent while he nursed a drink, or two or three. He was content for now, remembering the joyous memories of Seans welcoming party that he didn’t feel he’d need to push himself into a place where he wasn’t quite welcomed yet.

One thing Dutch hadn’t accounted for was the people, walking over to check on him before heading back to the party. Nobody stayed for long, and most people in the gang just stared at him from afar. He hadn’t considered Molly- of all people, Molly- to walk over and talk to him.

“You really are Dutch, aren’t ya?” Dutch’s head snapped up from his book and he looked up at her, closing the book and setting it aside.

“I am, Molly, I most certainly am.” He watched her hands close into fists gently, before relaxing. “Is there something on your mind?”

“I’m just worried Dutch. You look… You look so tired and…” She kept pausing, Dutch knew back then he would have been angry or frustrated- but the memory of her body lying on the ground as she bled out from a gunshot wound was enough to remind him she was loyal, she loved him and he felt like a fool. “Are we going to be alright Dutch? If you don’t mind me asking. What is it like? What am I like?”

“I’m not sure what all I can say, but it’s been a long time since we spoke Molly.” Molly nodded, understanding almost. “I will tell you though the last time I saw you, you were still as beautiful as you are now.”

“Oh-” Molly couldn’t help but smile, laughing a little bit at the statement. “Still the charmer I see. May I sit down?” Dutch nodded, scooting over so she would have some room to sit down. “What were you readin’?” Molly carefully sat on the bedroll- Dutch didn’t miss the way she grimaced sitting on the ground like any of the other women, but he supposed she wasn’t used to it quite yet.

“The American Inferno.” Dutch picked the book back up, gently tracing his fingers over it again. “It’s been years since I read it but still, one of my favorites.” He opened the book up, glancing at Molly. 

“Of course Dutch.” Molly leaned on her arm, looking down at the book in Dutch’s hands.

“Would you like to hear some?" Molly nodded and Dutch cleared his throat, reading off from the book.

“_ In the end, what has a man but his thoughts? I would postulate further, what has a man to stand for, but his thoughts? His actions, perhaps? I know precious little of actions….” _

Through the party the two sat under the tree, Dutch feeling like he was younger again as he used to read aloud for her and other members of the gang when they’d listen or when he’d call them over. It was peaceful. Just as it had been all those years ago, all that time ago peaceful.

His head hurt thinking about it too hard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Theres talk of hanging him."  
"Heres hoping."  
"Arthur!" Dutchs gut clenched, he remembered this too clearly and he rushed up. His younger self looked to him, taking a long puff off his cigar.  
"Let the bastard swing." Dutch said it, loud, he felt angry. This was it, this was how he could fix things. "I want to see that man swing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, lord, I'm so sorry I stopped working on this! I got caught up in other AU's and kept wanting to continue this.  
Thank you to everyone who commented! Here's a little chapter to help move the story forward a bit. It's short and I apologize, my motivation for this was down but I don't want to abandon this.  
I have a plan!

Dutch knew he was dreaming, it was obvious, with the way he walked through a dark forest, wandering around aimlessly. He didn’t hear anything, no animals anywhere, the only thing being his own footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Dutch took in a deep breath, pausing to look around the forest. Empty, it seemed.

And all too quiet.

He stepped forward, the ground crunching beneath him and he heard something growling behind him. Dutch stopped, turning to look behind him where he saw a brown wolf stalking out between the treelines to him. He turned back, and ran, hearing the wolf growling as it chased him through the trees.

He ducked down behind a tree, still hearing the growling and snapping of jaws not far behind, getting closer. Dutch wanted to wake up, he told himself to wake up. _ Just wake up. _

Before the wolf got closer Dutch looked up, seeing an eagle swooping down coming right to him- he clenched his eyes shut--

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Dutch jolted awake from his spot on the ground. Sitting up he rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes, groaning at the bright light of morning. He stood up, stretching his back and looked around the camp to see a few people- his young self included- already awake and moving.

Walking over to the coffee pot sitting by the stew Dutch poured himself a cup, sipping at it as he wandered around the camp.

After the initial shock of Dutch coming to the gang had worn off he found himself fitting in simple and easy again. He remembered the chores, he knew where things were and what needed to be done, and since there wasn’t much he was doing, he stepped in with Kieran after the man was untied from the tree to help with the horses.

He’d spoken with his younger self and easily the two agreed it be best he didn’t leave the camp if he could help it, and Dutch didn’t feel like leaving much anyway. Rather he’d spend his time relaxing, sitting, listening to those around him have fun as he hadn’t been able to in so long.

Dutch had a nagging feeling in the back of his head like he'd forgotten something, like he already wasn't doing enough to save his old gang and the people he cared about. As far as he knew, there was no Pinkerton business yet that needed to be handled, and everyone was relatively happy around the camp with Sean's return. Yet the feeling didn't go away, it got stronger as two days went past and nothing happened.

Dutch was planning to talk to himself--his past self--about moving west when it hit him all at once. The feeling, the knowing, when Lenny rode into camp in half a panic.

"Dutch! Dutch they got Micah!" Dutchs head snapped up from what he was doing and he was quick to rush over to Lenny and his younger self. He hung back, cautiously watching it play out. "Theres talk of hanging him."

"Heres hoping."

"Arthur!" Dutchs gut clenched, he remembered this too clearly and he rushed up. His younger self looked to him, taking a long puff off his cigar.

"Let the bastard swing." Dutch said it, loud, he felt angry. This was it, this was how he could fix things. "I want to see that man swing." Arthur stared at him in shock, looking over to Lenny- who also looked just as confused if not more so.

"Well, I like this version of you Dutch a lot better." Arthur grinned and motioned to Dutch. "He wants to see Micah swing, hell I'll gladly take him into town to watch." Young Dutch just stared at Arthur before his face turned sour. "Dutch we all know he's you. Got that well and confirmed. If he says to let Micah hang I'd say listen to him."

“We are not letting Micah hang. Arthur, take Lenny into town and get him calmed down. When you’re done there you go and get Micah out of jail. I’ll talk to  _ him. _ ” Young Dutch grabbed Dutch by his arm, dragging him to his tent and pulling back the flaps before anyone could protest. Dutch scowled, pulling his arm away when the flaps were pulled. His younger self turned to him, jabbing a finger in his face. “I don’t know what happened to you-”

“Yourself. You’re looking at a mirror if you get Micah out of jail! Let the bastard swing, he’s not part of this gang any more so than a god damn Pinkerton is!” Dutch’s voice raised, obviously angry at himself. He remembered this far too clearly, thought about it more often than he dared to admit to anyone. “You should let him swing, get Lenny and Arthur back here, and move out west now while the damn Pinkertons haven’t found you.”

“The law out west is watching us, we can’t move out there.” Dutch clenched his fists, he was getting pissed off, his logic was all wrong, why was it so wrong.

“The law is watching you out here!” Dutch raised his voice again, it hurt to shout and he turned away, coughing at the soreness from shouting. He didn’t do it much in his old age, he was worn out, tired, just tired from yelling. “There are Pinkertons out here, they’re everywhere from Blackwater to Saint Denis, and they’re going to kill every one of us.” Dutch could feel his younger counterpart staring daggers into him. “Let Micah swing. Or I’ll shoot him myself.” Dutch turned back to his young self, stepping up close to him, his face set in stone. “I shot him once, and I swear by all I stand by, if he comes within five feet of this camp, I’ll shoot him again.” With that Dutch left the tent, storming out and fuming.

He head into the wooded area so he was alone, at least a little, grabbing some stones off the ground to chuck them in anger. Everything was so frustrating, he didn’t have any memory of this, it must be a dream, or he must be stuck in hell reliving his old sins again and again. Dutch rubbed his temples, walking over to a tree to lean against it with his eyes closed so he could calm down.

A few minutes later he heard footsteps coming through the brush, familiar footsteps that were a comfort to him years ago. “Dutch?”

“Hosea.”

“Are you alright out here?”

“Oh I’m fine.” Dutch pulled back from leaning on the tree, turning to his old friend. “I think I understand how you feel now, dealing with me all those years, how did you handle it?” Dutch rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “I need to get all of you safe, and if Micah comes back we’re all going to die.”

“Well, what do you suggest doing? You said head west but, you’ve also said we need money-”

“Fuck the money, we can move.” Dutch tapped his fingers together, his brows knit together as he tried to think. “No, no we have the Blackwater money.” His face lit up as he thought, walking back and forth in small motions, pacing across the ground. “Most of us down there are wanted, but not all of us.”

“Well, is it worth it Dutch? That money is still hot, you said so yourself there are Pinkertons everywhere. I have those Cornwall bonds that need sold, they could get us a good amount of money.” Dutch shook his head, waving his hand in a dismissive manor.

“The longer we sit on those the longer we’ll have to be out here, just hold onto those for awhile, but Hosea we left in Blackwater one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, that is more than enough to move all of us west, that was the plan to begin with.” Hosea seemed unsure, Dutch could see it on his face he was worried about Dutch, just what he was suggesting. “Don’t give me that look Hosea, you know I’m right. We didn’t rob that boat for nothing.”

“Blackwater is on lockdown, none of us can go in or go out of there without being found out.”

“Not none of us Hosea.” Dutch motioned towards the camp. “The women, and me. I’m old, with the right outfit they won’t recognize me, they’re looking for the younger me, not this… Old man that I am.” Hosea rubbed his jaw, nodding at Dutchs words. “We also have two new members of the gang if you’re forgetting. Kieran, and Mrs Adler. Oh the pair of them, blessings, why didn’t I see it before.”

“You’re trusting an O’Driscoll, and a grieving widow? To do what Dutch? I doubt either of them right now will do much good, think about it for a moment.”

“Hosea, I’ve been thinking about this for twelve years.” Dutch reached out, clapping Hosea on the shoulder with a grin on his face. “Mrs Adler is driven by forces unknown, oh she’ll listen, and Kieran is… Well…” Dutchs face fell for a moment before he shook it off. “He showed me he’s no traitor, that boy saved Arthurs life, and he was more loyal to us to his end than…. Than that god damn rat, Micah.”

“Micah is a rat?” Hosea asked quickly, only for Dutch to ignore him and begin walking off. “Dutch-”

“I have a plan Hosea! It’s a good one, it’ll work! We’re heading west just like we wanted to, you’ll see!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you want to know?” Dutch leaned back in the chair, his arms folded over his chest.  
“Everything. Every detail. What happened to me, what made you shoot Micah. You’ve been secretive since you arrived and its setting every person here on edge.” His young self made a good point, Dutch had noticed how people looked at him weird and shuffled around, nobody seemed to want to do much until things were settled with himself, but still…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took SO long to update but I've been busy with other fics! I hope you enjoy this chapter though!

The remainder of the day was spent on Dutch’s part, planning. Snagging a map from someones tent before he sat down at his bedroll, looking at the map of Blackwater. It had changed, not much, but had changed over the last twelve years and even then he had only been there a handful of times since 1899. He sat by the tree until he felt his legs stiffen up and heard Pearson calling out that it was time for stew, taking the opportunity to stand up and stretch before he walked over to the stew pot. Before Dutch could even grab the ladle to scoop stew into a bowl it was snatched away, his younger self stood on the other side of the pot, now holding the ladle away from him, his face set in a scowl. Dutch sighed, setting his bowl down before he motioned to the young counterpart.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so. We need to talk, and this time, just talk.”

“Can I eat first?”   
“You can eat after we talk. Answers for me, and you’ll get your stew.” Sounded fair enough, Dutch knew there was no use arguing with himself so he followed the young man back to his tent, sitting down in the extra chair while the other sat on the cot.

“What do you want to know?” Dutch leaned back in the chair, his arms folded over his chest.   
“Everything. Every detail. What happened to me, what made you shoot Micah. You’ve been secretive since you arrived and its setting every person here on edge.” His young self made a good point, Dutch had noticed how people looked at him weird and shuffled around, nobody seemed to want to do much until things were settled with himself, but still…

“I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t? How can we trust you? You say you were sent back here to atone for your sins, to fix things, so tell me what I can do to keep my family safe.” The words hurt, his family, he’d abandoned them so long ago, before the turn of the century had even happened, before the gang fell apart at the seams, he abandoned them.

“You need to get rid of Micah.”

“You’re dead set on getting rid of him. What harm could he possibly cause?” Dutch bit the inside of his cheek, getting up he pulled back the flaps once again on the tent to get them privacy, hopefully nobody would listen in. “Micah is a good man-”   
“He’s a rat. He’s been ratting us out since the beginning.” Dutch sat back down, leaning forward so he was closer to his younger self and wouldn’t have to raise his voice too much. “The Blackwater thing would've never happened if we didn’t have Micah. It was a good take, sure, but all those Pinkertons and the law… They wouldn’t have shown up so fast. He’s talking, he’s always been talking.” Dutch watched his younger self tense, take in a sharp breath through his nose. “He needs to swing, we can’t have him around anymore.”

“You’re talking crazy.”

“I shot him myself. Nine years from now I shot him, and before the turn of the century half those people out there are going to be dead, you won’t have them anymore. I-” His younger self held his hand up, an obvious way of telling him to shut up. They both sat back, Dutch watching the counterpart as he thought and began plotting. He knew that look, he knew the motions of his leg bouncing while he thought of plans.

“If he’s a traitor like you’re saying, we can’t leave him hang. You know what our rule is, traitors are to be taken out by us.” He was right, the one traitor years ago that had been shot like a dog in camp and dragged away. “Arthur will get him out of jail and bring him back, and then we’ll deal with him.” Dutch felt the weight come off his shoulders and he rubbed his eyes.   
“I have a plan, as well. The money, in Blackwater- I know its crazy and it sounds crazy, it is, but if I can go and get it, with Mrs Adler and Kieran, we can get out of here.” Dutch stood back up, peeking out of the tent flaps to make sure nobody was listening, thankfully the gang seemed to be mostly eating and sitting around, doing what they would usually do. He stepped back from the flaps, turning to his young self fully. “The law isn’t watching us out west, if we can get that money, we can get out of here. That old plot of land we looked at oh, god it wasn’t that long ago for you, its perfect. Plenty big. We can settle, build that ranch that the gang dreams of, and become members of society.”

“What if the plan doesn’t work? Blackwater is very… Oh I’m sure you can get in and out fine, but a grieving widow and an O’Driscoll boy? Will they work?”

“Yes, they’ll work perfectly. Maybe another person, someone not very well known. Karen perhaps, she was always a good shot when we needed.” His young self stood up, his hand gently going onto Dutchs shoulder. “This is the only way. This is the way to the freedom I always used to talk about, that you continue to speak about. The gang will still listen to you, I’m not a leader anymore. I just need a few days to get the plan together, but this will work.”

“Fine. But you come to me before you move with it, you understand?” Dutch nodded, he didn’t have a problem with that, it wasn’t his gang anymore to lead, he had his chance and the only thing he could do now was fix his mistakes.

“Send someone out to Valentine tomorrow to pick Arthur up, tell him to bring Micah straight back here. We’re going to deal with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m hungry.” Dutch left the tent, heading back over to the stew pot to finally get himself dinner.

`

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The sound of jaws snapping, growling of wolves and feet rushing through leaves followed Dutch. He wasn’t running, wasn’t even in a wooded area yet he couldn’t see the wolves chasing him. The area was open, wide and free, grass around him in every direction with a blue sky over him, but the sounds were wrong. Dutch continued to look around him, feeling tingles in his spine every time he heard feet rushing behind him, yet each time he looked there was nothing.

He continued forward, walking down the grassy hill that he was on, looking around. Where was he? It wasn’t a place he remembered going to, yet felt so familiar at the same time.

_ Dutch _

_ Dutch _

Whispers surrounded him, he turned and looked around, the whispers and wolves overlapping. Dutch stepped back, his foot slipping over the edge of a cliff- when did a cliff get there? He looked down. Snow. The grass was gone.

_ Dutch _

He spun back around, John stood in front of him, holding a gun to him. The scene was familiar, he was here not that long ago. Was the whole gang a dream? Was it a hallucination? Was he still standing here?

_ Look out Dutch _

A wolf stood behind John, walking up, teeth bared and eyes red, growling noises. John was unaffected, ignoring the wolf that was starting to walk up beside him. Dutch opened his mouth to speak, but his throat felt completely dry. John stepped forward, his gun clicked and the wolf lunged. Dutch threw his hands up, feeling a bite-

`

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Dutchs eyes shot open and he sat up, his breathing heavy, his hands shaking. With a groan Dutch rubbed his hands across his face, resting his elbows on the table that he was sitting at. When had he fallen asleep? Was he really that tired? Christ. Footsteps made their way over to him and Dutch looked up, seeing Hosea walking over with a cup of coffee that he set down beside Dutch.

“Ah, Hosea.” Dutch rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hand, realizing he’d fallen asleep with a map crumbled under his face. Dutch took the cup that Hosea set down, holding it up slightly in a thank you before he sipped at it. “Good morning.”

“You slept well. Just wanted to let you know Micah is out of jail.”

“Did he come back?”   
“No. Arthur said he wanted to ‘make it up to Dutch’. Suppose he’ll do something.” Dutch shrugged, though he was a bit frustrated the man hadn’t come back and Arthur wasn’t able to convince him, he figured it gave him a little more time to talk more with his young self, come up with the plan, and get everyone to safety. They could leave Micah to rot in an old campsite if they needed, he didn’t much care as long as he was able to get his family safe elsewhere.

“I think I remember that… Yes, he told me when he came back about a stagecoach and some O’Driscolls. Thats fine, he’ll be dealt with when he comes back anyway, he may as well come back with money.” Dutch stood up and stretched, taking the coffee and finishing it off before he picked up his map and folded it up. “Is there anything else?”

“Well I was talking to-” Hosea paused, motioning to the large tent in camp. “To Dutch, and I thought maybe you and I could get out of camp for a little. He wants to test your theory of being unrecognizable in your old age.” Dutch agreed and he grazed his eyes across the camp. “You should get yourself organized, maybe go talk to Arthur, I’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready to go out.”

“Not allowed out alone?”

“Not quite. I think Dutch thinks you’re still a spy.” Hosea scratched his jaw. “You know, it’s odd, calling the both of you Dutch. Could get confusing.” Dutch nodded, thinking for a moment.

“What was it… The name we always used, an alias on our letters?”

“Tacitus Kilgore.” Hosea coughed into his fist, mumbling a swear under his breath. “I don’t think the people around here will like that so much, that’s a gang alias.” Dutch grimaced, placing his hands on his hips, thinking of all the names he’d used over the years.

“Aiden… Aiden O'Malley then. That one I used, far after all of this shit happened here, you can call me that. Around my younger self at least.” Hosea nodded.

“Well, alright then, I’ll let people know. You go and get yourself organized, let me know when you want to ride out.” Hosea clapped Dutch gently on the shoulder and walked off, allowing Dutch the time to stretch his legs and wander.

His nightmare stuck in the back of his mind, visions of the wolf and then Johns face dug into his memory. Dutch let his feet carry him over to Johns tent, standing at the entrance to look inside of it. John was still injured, though he was up and eating now, bandages replaced with fresh stitches and his clothes clean, meaning he’d been up recently with Abigail to get him cleaned up some so he didn’t stink up the camp. Dutch felt like his legs were heavy but he stepped up closer.

“John.” Johns head snapped up from the food in his lap. “May I come in?”

“Sure…” Dutch stepped inside, ducking down so he didn’t hit his head on the top of the tent. He looked, finding a stool that Abigail usually used and pulled it up, sitting down on it. “You’re from the future?”

“Supposedly. Though I have no idea how.” Dutch rubbed his palms over his knuckles, staring down at his hands. Why did he come in here? He had nothing to say to John… Perhaps he wanted to see the man again without guns being aimed at one another.   
“I want to ask you a few questions.” He expected that, everyone was probably buzzing with questions about what the future held, Dutch just wasn’t sure if he could answer all of them.

“I’ll tell you what I can.”

“What happened to me?” Dutch sat up straight on the stool, looking John in the eyes. For the first time in years there was no hatred in them, concern and something else, but they weren’t full of fire and anger that Dutch had become used to. “Abigail said you walk around here looking sad as hell, moping around, even around Hosea. I’m not an idiot, what happened?”

“You grew up.” That was obviously not the answer John was looking for, Dutch saw the crease in his brows. “You, and Abigail, and Jack. You became a good husband to Abigail and an even better father to Jack.” John looked down at his food again and Dutch watched the way his hands fidget with it. “I know you have it in you, I saw it happen.”

“I just… Jack, I want to be a father to him but… You know.” Dutch nodded.

“I know.” Dutch leaned forwards slightly, placing a hand on Johns knee, comforting him. “Everyone here has seen you trying John.” John snorted.

“I left for a year, and Arthur won’t let it go, neither will Abigail.”

“And you have been here for the other three years.” Dutch waved his hand, brushing off the comment as if the year didn’t matter. “You became a better man than I ever was, don’t you go and change that. We’re going to move west, get ourselves into society, we’ll be doing this right, farmers. When things are settled, when we’re out west and theres no more stress on us worrying over who’s going to get shot next, you’ll be just fine.” John smiled, looking back to Dutch, nodding his head slightly.

“You’re sure?”   
“You’ve got it in you. You care about Jack?”

“Of course.”

“Then prove it, all over again. Spend time with the boy while he’s still young.” Dutch stood up, heading over to the tent entrance. “You’ll see John, it’ll all be fine. I got a plan, John.” John snorted.

“You always got a plan, Dutch.” Dutch felt his heart clench, slightly and he nodded.

“This is a good one.” He spoke, before exiting the tent and walking away.

Dutch made his way over to the horses, looking them over before he made his way over to The Count, patting at the horses neck. It had been years since he’d ridden The Count, the horse dying shortly after the gang broke apart, and Dutch hadn’t picked up a new horse for himself since, he’d just stuck to riding stolen or wild horses. Dutch let out a sigh, giving the horse another pat before he head over to one of the spare ones the gang had.

“Need a saddle, Aiden?” Hosea spoke up, walking over to Dutch with a saddle in his hands. “Arthur always has a spare saddle around, you know, after the accident.” Dutch grinned taking the saddle from Hosea.

“Which accident? The one when his saddle wasn’t on correctly, or the one where it broke?” Hosea laughed as Dutch put the spare saddle on the horse, making sure it was nice and snug. “Arthur doesn’t mind me using this?”   
“Nah, he got a new one not that long ago, and if you’re riding, you need a horse. Cheaper than buying a new one, I know your tastes.” Hosea spoke, motioning to The Count when he brought up Dutch’s tastes. Arabian horse- stolen but expensive- and a saddle that Dutch had years ago bought larger saddlebags for, along with a padded blanket and custom stirrups. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Of course.” Dutch said as he climbed onto the horse, patting its neck gently. Hosea head over to Silver Dollar and got onto his back, the two of them steering their horses to the exit of the camp area. “Where are we heading to?”

“Not sure, I figured we could ride around a bit. Get you out of camp, fresh air that doesn’t smell like Uncle.” Dutch laughed, feeling light again.

It felt like it had been years since he’d laughed, the last time he could remember feeling good was the party when Jack was brought home, but even then it had been bittersweet. Sean had died a few nights before and Karen had turned into a mess, everyone was affected by it, and even seeing Sean alive and well again reminded Dutch that he needed everyone to get out alive.

“I saw you go to Johns tent. He’s healing nicely.” Hosea spoke up. “You haven’t gone to see him before now.”

“What about that?” Dutch asked, gripping at the reins in his hands before he relaxed them.

“I was just wondering what happened to you.” Hosea slowed his horse, looking around as if he was expecting someone would follow them. Dutch slowed as well, looking away from Hosea “You showed up and looked like a wreck. Blood on your shirt, no gun on you, and you look… Exhausted.”

“I am exhausted. I lost everything.”

“What happened? You won’t tell yourself what happened, so it must be serious.” Dutch let out a sigh, shaking his head. “You’re making everyone nervous, not talking about what happened and walking around looking like you’re walking through a funeral.”

“Hosea, I swear to you, when I get all of us out of here and safe, and alive, I will tell you what happened to me, to the gang.” Dutch didn’t want to say it out loud, he didn’t want to jinx anything, or put it out there that they would die. Hosea didn’t seem happy with the answer though, his face set in a frown.

“What happened to me?” Dutch closed his eyes, pulling his horse to a stop, putting his head in his hands. “D-”   
“It was my fault.” Dutch spoke. “What happened was my fault. We didn’t plan correctly, I didn’t listen to you about killing that… Stupid fucking… Snake of a man.”

“Who?” Hosea rode his horse closer to Dutch’s, leaning over to place a gentle hand on his back. “You’re not making much sense old friend.” Dutch sat up slightly, reaching out to Hosea, placing his hands on Hoseas shoulders, making sure their eyes were locked together when he spoke.

“I watched you bleed out in a street after being shot by the god damn Pinkertons.” Dutch gripped his hands into Hoseas shirt, his jaw clenching, speaking through his grit teeth. “I swear on all that I have left, I will not watch you die like that again.” Hosea seemed stunned at the statement, obviously it was not the answer he was looking for.

“Was there anyone else?” Dutch nodded. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who all died as long as I get you all west and I get you all safe. I won’t have to watch you die again, nobody will have to die.” Dutch moved back to sitting correctly on his horse, hands gripping at the reins tightly once again. “You mark my words Hosea, you’ll make it through the end of this year, you and the rest of those people. I’ll shoot Micah again if I have to, I’ll let him bleed out on the streets, I’ll wrap my hands around his neck and-”

“Okay.” Hosea spoke up, stopping Dutch. “We’ll take care of him. You’ll see it.” Dutch took in a deep breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. “Lets enjoy the rest of this ride.”

“You’re right. Of course.... You’re always right Hosea.”

`

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Hosea and Dutch rode back into camp a few hours later, the two having head down to Valentine to go get some early drinks and stop at the general store for some food and cigarettes. They rode back in as Arthur was getting his horse ready to ride, the young man smiling at the two and giving them a small wave.

“Hosea…  _ Aiden _ .” The name was said with a teasing tone to it. “You two enjoy your ride?”   
“Oh very much so!” Dutch said, hitching his horse before he got off, walking over to Arthur. “You heading out?”   
“Yeah, Strauss needs some help with loanin.” Arthur shook his head. “Some man, met him in town once, collecting money for the poor. He didn’t look so well off though.” Dutch felt his heart drop, like a puzzle piece fell into place.

Why hadn’t he caught on sooner? Arthur mentioned having seen some sick man who needed money. He didn’t do money lending after seeing the sick man, he’d kicked Strauss out of the camp one day in a public display, coughing along and throwing money at the man to get him to leave. The last Dutch saw of Arthur he was laying on the ground, bleeding out as he begged Dutch to listen to him about Micah. It clicked.

“Don’t.” Dutch grabbed Arthurs arm. “Do not go see that man.” Arthur grimaced, tugging his arm away- he always hated being manhandled. “He’s sick, forget it, when he dies his wife can pay us if we’re still around. You are not to be near anyone sick, you hear me? Nobody in this gang is to go to that man.” Arthurs brow knit tightly.

“What in the hell-”

“Just listen to him.” Hosea spoke up, walking up behind Dutch. “I’ll go talk to uh- to Dutch- about who Strauss is loaning money to. If Aiden says its not a good idea, well I would listen to him.”

“Okay, sure Hosea. Whatever you say. I still have to go out hunting at least, I’ll take Charles.” Dutch nodded and Arthur walked off. Hosea placed a hand on Dutchs arm and the man shook his head.

“Don’t ask.” Dutch grumbled.   
“I’m not. I’ll go talk to Dutch then, you go ahead and… I don’t know. Work on your big plans.” The blond walked off towards Dutch’s tent, leaving the old man standing by the horses with his fists balled tightly.

He thought to himself. What a fool he’d been those years ago, blindly living by greed. What a stupid, god damn fool he made of himself and of his gang. He wouldn’t do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Dutch didn't really know where Arthur picked up the TB, it could've been from anyone you know? Lotta sick people back then. So, he realized and hes like "You know what no"  
As for why Dutch is being so secretive on how people died? I'll explain that later.

**Author's Note:**

> The book Dutch is reading is smth you can actually find in the game! If you're interested seeing the excerpt from the game heres the link:  
https://gist.github.com/ErikSwan/399c847f45878f684e70fb46bc28ee12
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed! Please like or comment if you did!  
(And, side note I promise I haven't abandoned my other fics. I just have so many ideas all the time)


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